


Negotiations

by tygermine



Series: Merthur Drabbles [36]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Drabble, Flirting, M/M, Modern Era, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-11-01 14:54:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20817005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tygermine/pseuds/tygermine
Summary: For the prompt: It's not what it looks like...





	Negotiations

Arthur had seen him during the wedding. The tall man with the black hair ad the bluest eyes who had stood by Gwaine as he and Morgana exchanged vows.

The mystery man hadn’t been at any of the rehearsals, so introductions had to wait until the reception.

Only, when the reception came around, the mystery man was nowhere to be found.

Shoulders slumping slightly, Arthur headed towards the Groom’s room for a bit of a sulk, armed with a bottle of Glenfiddich he’d pilfered from the bar.

He pushed open the door to the room and froze.

There was mystery man leaning against the dresser and on her knees in front of him was Gwen, who was Morgana’s matron of honour.

“What the bloody hell is this?”

Gwen turned to him, still on her knees as mystery man’s hands covered his crotch.

“Arthur! Oh good, can you get Lance, please?” She turned back to the mystery man’s crotch. “Move your hands, Merlin. I can’t see what I’m doing.”

“What, exactly are you doing, Gwen?” asked Arthur.

“Definitely not giving me a blow job,” Merlin spoke up.

“I’d hope not, she’s a married woman.”

“Look, it’s not what it looks like.” Merlin began to explain then yelped. Gwen muttered an apology but stayed on her knees.

Arthur crossed his arms, the bottle of whiskey now tucked into the crook fo an elbow, and leaned against the doorframe. “Explain to me when is a blowjob not a blowjob?”

“When it’s the split crotch of the rented tuxedo and I’m the only one with a sewing kit on hand.” Gwen pushed herself to her feet, the sewing kit in her hand. “Merlin, you’re all set, but I wouldn’t recommend doing any dancing.” With that, she left the room, nudging Arthur on her way out.

“You planning to keep that whiskey to yourself?” Merlin licked his lips.

“What this? I may be persuaded to share it,” Arthur smiled.

Merlin took a step towards him. “What’s a good bottle of whiskey go for these days anyway?”

“A phone number, for the first glass. I’m open to negotiate after that.”

The next morning, the scene in Arthur’s room looked exactly like it was - a lot of orgasms for both parties and two hungover idiots who may be on their way to falling in love.


End file.
